


Foggy Gets Mugged

by MissMoochy



Series: MissMoochy's FebuWhump 2021 Oneshots [7]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Crying, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Mugging, POV Foggy Nelson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: FebuWhump 2021 Day 7 Alt Prompt: [Gunpoint]Matt wouldn’t cry. Matt wouldn’t be stupid enough to get mugged in the first place, but if he did, he certainly wouldn’t cry. Foggy isn’t Matt.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: MissMoochy's FebuWhump 2021 Oneshots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136714
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Foggy Gets Mugged

Matt wouldn’t cry. Matt wouldn’t blubber like some chunky kid who got cut from the school’s baseball team.

Foggy scowled at his reflection, but the effect was ruined by the tears welling up in his eyes. He doesn’t cry much, but when he does, he really cries. He’s an ugly crier, too. Red, blotchy face. His eyes go all blood-shot and pink-rimmed and it takes ages for the soreness to abate. And everything, his trembling bottom lip and the quivering flesh of his double chin, it all repulsed him. He’s pathetic. He’s barely a man. Karen wouldn’t cry like this and she’s suffered far more than Foggy has. And Matt certainly wouldn’t hole himself up in a public bathroom and sob his guts out.

It was only half an hour that he’d had the hard barrel of a gun pressed to his spine. He could still feel it, a phantom sensation. Jabbing his fleshy back, the pointed muzzle digging in. He could still feel the mugger’s fingers on his bicep. Still smell the sour breath on his neck.

* * *

He was making his way through the street, on his way to a cafe for lunch. He hadn’t felt like eating at his desk today. Hogarth had given him a tonne of work, and he wanted to escape it for a bit. He was planning to get a pastrami sandwich and a coffee. He had an issue of the Bulletin tucked under his arm and he was planning to read it as he ate. The cafe was a hidden gem, family-owned, small and cosy and a nice place where you could sit and people watch.

And then a hand dragged him into an alleyway. He dropped his paper and it fell in a puddle. The guy was young, maybe early twenties? Smooth skin and dark eyes, but most of his face was covered by his grey hood. Hoodie and jeans, and a — a gun. Oh God, that was a gun he was pointing at him.

Foggy froze, and it’s like the world slowed down. The man was speaking quickly but it’s like the words didn’t make sense, they flowed over him as if he was listening to some unfamiliar language. The man lost patience and grabbed him, a rough hand on Foggy’s arm and threw him against the wall. His cheekbone smacked into hard brick with a dull crack, and he gasped.

Money. Phone. He could pick out those two words in the mess, and the gun jabbing into his back made the situation all too real. He fumbled, stupid, clumsy hands trying to empty his pockets but his hands were too big and stiff and he couldn’t — he was trying but he just couldn’t— 

The mugger cursed and stuck his hand in Foggy’s pants pocket, yanking out his wallet. He didn’t bother with the phone. He turned and ran.

Foggy took there, pressed to the wall and listened to his rapid, slapping footsteps. Only when he was sure he was alone did he succumb to it. He sank to the ground, sitting amongst filth, old newspapers and empty food packets. The sidewalk was slick with rainwater and it was seeping into his pants.

He sat there. The whole thing had passed so quickly.

* * *

Foggy wiped his eyes with a wadded ball of tissue, but every time he glanced up and saw his reflection, fresh tears grew. His face didn’t look too bad. His cheek was cut and smeared with dirt from the wall, but that was easily fixed. He used tissue soaked in warm water to wipe away the worst of it. There. When he dragged his pocket comb through his hair, he almost looked presentable. Sure, his eyes were too red and his face was still pink and mottled, but once he stepped outside, the cool air would settle on his cheeks and his normal colouring would return. Couldn’t do much about the eyes, but then, he has a lot of late nights, he’s known for them. It wasn’t too bad.

His pants were still damp and faintly stained, but that wouldn’t matter once he was sat at his desk.

He still had his phone. The mugger hadn’t taken that. Once he was back at work, he could call the bank to get them to cancel his cards. Hogarth wouldn’t care if he made a few calls at his desk.

The mugger had Foggy’s wallet. The cards. The photo of his mother. The photo of Matt. Matt didn’t know he had it. His friend, well, former friend, wasn’t a fan of having his picture taken, but sometimes he could be persuaded to smile for the camera. It was taken at Josie’s. Karen had taken the photo. He was sat with Matt, one arm thrown over Matt’s shoulder and both of them were grinning. Matt was in the process of raising his glass to his lips, and his hand was a pale, elegant thing, curled around the glass. And it was gone, the photograph was gone.

It was a kick to the chest, a tangible thing, a feeling of loss. It was a reminder of what he’d lost. It had been months since they’d last spoken. There was no chance of getting Matt to recreate that photograph with him. 

Matt. If he’d known what had happened, he would have said something reassuring. He’d hug him and tell him the worst was over.

He threw the sodden clump of tissues into the bin and grabbed the door handle.

Time to get back to work.

As he walked back to work, he sent up a silent thanks that it had occurred in the daytime. If he’d got mugged in the night, Matt might have been out patrolling. He likely would have saved him. Foggy didn’t think he could handle seeing Matt again. And he could happily go the rest of his life without seeing the ghoulish, red-eyed face of Daredevil.


End file.
